


pretend we're elsewhere

by orphan_account



Category: Death Note
Genre: Embarrassment, First Kiss, M/M, Touching, poor L has no experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:30:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4318992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't ask for it to happen and if it could kindly not happen, stop happening, reverse itself, that would be lovely. </p><p>(Explicit just in case.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	pretend we're elsewhere

He took a deep breath to suck his stomach in and tried to pretend like he wasn't doing any such thing. He tried to pretend like he wasn't nervous, but that was more than a little hard to do with his abdomen protesting. He felt like he was being stabbed. It was an unpleasant sensation, but he wasn't going to stop what was coming because he'd been preparing for it and for god's sake he was twenty-seven now, surely he could handle this.

There was nothing else to stop it, nothing to wait for. Kira had been caught, the investigation was over, and all the loose ends had finished being tied up and for some god foresaken reason Light Yagami and decided to stick around so this, this was the obvious logical conclusion and he still wasn't ready.

Light had been talking passionately about something, getting worked up and frustrated while L sat there, listening, eyes focused on Light's mouth no matter how hard he tried to look anywhere else. He must have looked ridiculous. The other investigators around them might not have noticed the amount of attention he was paying Light's lips, but there was no way Light had missed it. Light wouldn't. Light couldn't. So he was well and truly screwed on the "it's going to happen, but when" train that lead to Light stopping in the middle of his sentence and leveling L with a serious look. "Ryuzaki, are you listening?" he asked.

"Yes," L responded. He couldn't remember bringing his hand to his mouth, let alone allowing himself to chew on his thumb like an infant. But there it was anyway.

Light frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," he said again, but he knew his voice wasn't exactly convincing. He'd been able to hear it himself, hear exactly how strangled it sounded, and even if he hadn't there was a clue in the way Light balanced himself on L's thigh and leaned forward to press a hand against his forehead.

"You're warm," he commented. "I told you that you were going to get sick, standing out in the rain like that."

L didn't like to be reminded. He was certain he was going to die, and he still wasn't sure who changed their mind at the last second or why, and if he hadn't been so terrified he might have checked the teeth of that proverbial gift horse. He got to keep Light and nobody else died and it was something he'd have to learn to live with, even if not all of the mysteries had been solved. "Preposterous," L stated. "I am not sick."

Light shook his head, grinning to himself. "Of course, you're going to be stubborn." He sighed and stood, grabbing L's wrist and dragging him toward the kitchen. "I'm sure we have a thermometer or something in here."

L groaned, shaking his own head, but didn't dig his heels in. He knew Light would drag him or worse - maybe pick him up and carry him, bridal-style, into the kitchen. Because he really needed anybody to see that. But he did sit down at the small island in the center, arms crossed on the counter. He could be rude if nothing else, and there was no real way for Light to stop him.

He heard Light tap his foot against the linoleum and clicked his tongue against his teeth. "This is unbelievable," Light said. "I can't believe you don't own a damn thermometer."

"It doesn't matter," L stated. "Because I'm not sick."

"Oh, really?" Light asked, and his face zoomed in to press almost up against L's. "Then why is your face all red?"

The only thing he can think is that he says it in frustration. There's no other reason to say it, none that makes sense. "Well maybe if you would stop insisting on leaning in, as if you were going to kiss me -" 

L can't pretend to be embarrassed, or actually be embarrassed, or look embarrassed, because his face is - as Light has so unkindly reminded him - already a nice shade of pink. And he's also leaning away, almost stumbling off the stool and onto the floor, mouth pulled into a taught line like his stomach.

Light snorted, and L missed the victorious blush in his own haste to appear anything but interested. "Please," he muttered. "You never let me even get close enough to kiss you. You insist on leaning away - that's not much of an invitation."

And this, he thinks, was a challenge, that must have been how he read it, because his only response was to hiss the word "Fine" and lean in quite close, nose bumping against Light's and expecting Light to be the mildly uncomfortable one. Because Light was the one who would know what to do, who would know why this was inappropriate. But instead, Light took the open rejection-turned-advance as an opportunity to actually do it, and pressed their lips together.

And L absolutely could not breathe. He didn't know how, or where to look, if he should close his eyes or what. And it should have been a nightmare, but something felt like a success and he managed to press his lips back. His knees had spread apart enough for Light to stand between them, wrap an arm around L's back and direct his head to a better angle so he could - oh, god.

He didn't ask for it to happen and if it could kindly not happen, stop happening, reverse itself, that would be lovely. Because the slide of the tongue into his mouth makes his eyes close finally but the feeling, the softness, the press sparks in his stomach and makes his cock grow heavy and hard in his jeans, way, way too close to where Light is standing. And L almost couldn't stand it except for the undeniable pleasure of soft pressure from lips and tongues pressing together until Light managed to change the direction and drag L's tongue into his own mouth and suck.

And L gasped, several parts of him embarrassed and titillated all at the same time, releasing in his jeans and feeling a little miserable.

Light took the gasp as an opportunity to switch again, playing with L's tongue and gripping the back of his head tightly, and it's really so wonderful to know that L hasn't miscalculated and that Light has wanted this and been wanting this for at least as long as he have. But then Light stepped forward and put his hand on L's thigh and  _stopped_ , breaking away and moving back just enough to give L a look of surprise, eyebrows raised. 

And L really just wants to disappear into the floor because he is relatively certain none of Light's previous lovers or flings were so inept and inexperienced at things like kissing that they not only got aroused but came in their jeans like horny teenagers.

Which should, arguably, be Light's occupation, Light's MO, as he's not quite twenty yet and there's still room for him to do ridiculous things like this. L is an adult and he reminds himself of this as he matches Light's analytical look with a glare. And he could be colored well and truly shocked when Light bowed his head a little and smirks and covered L's crotch with his hand, squeezing.

L let out a noise somewhere between an aroused cry and that noise foxes make.

"I thought I'd have to buy you dinner first," Light said, voice a cross of teasing and flirting. "I'm flattered," he muttered, skipping L's mouth and going to the neck to start leaving bites all over his neck. His tongue covered the marks and lips sucked and L keened, nails digging into Light's shoulder. 

"I'd appreciate it if you ceased mocking me," L snapped, fingers gripping the edge of the stool tightly. 

"Who's mocking?" Light's voice was easily a purr, more deep like a growl, making L's skin buzz. "I'm being entirely honest," came with a nip to L's earlobe and a drag of L's hand, loosening L's grip on the stool and placing it on - oh god Light was hard too, running L's hand over the bulge at the front of his trousers.

Light didn't hold in the groan that came, moaning loudly in L's ear and pressing into the hand. And L, cheeks still pink and more than a little mortified, had no issues encouraging Light to match him, hand cupping and pressing and squeezing until the moans were breathy and hips were bucking and a hand gripped his thigh tightly as a wet spot pooled near the heel of L's hand.

Pants on the back of his neck made L uncomfortable, desperate for a shower or something.

But they had all the time in the world and every reason to make it drag on, so he merely offered, "The cameras were never installed in my room."

Light's smirk was well worth the agony, well worth waiting for.


End file.
